


All My Days, I Loved One Boy

by SSDSnape



Series: Bamfylde Saga [1]
Category: To Serve Them All My Days - R. F. Delderfield
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom!Boyer, Consensual Underage Sex, Corporal Punishment, Falling In Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining!Powlett-Jones, Rough Sex, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top!Powlett-Jones, Underage Sex, Vocal!Boyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSDSnape/pseuds/SSDSnape
Summary: War veteran David Powlett-Jones arrives at Bamfylde School a den of depravity and perverted 'Traditions' to teach History. He quickly finds himself falling in amongst the old retainers of the school and joining them in the 'Old Time Tradition' when he becomes attracted to a boy named Boyer.





	1. Entering Bamfylde

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1-6 are based on 'To Serve Them All My Days' book one, by R.F. Delderfield.

I got off the train and stood shaking slightly in my Khaki uniform, clasping a letter in my right hand and my coat and walking stick in my left. I wasn't sure that I was doing the right thing. I felt odd. Tired. Old would you believe it. I had been invalided out of the army and the war where I had been fighting on the Front Line, due to shell shock. Why my doctor thought I could convalesce in Devonshire, as a teacher no less I don't know. The hissing of the train behind me and the closing of the carriage door took me back just for a flash to being back in the trenches. Until the porter asked me if it was Bamfylde I'd be wanting. I limped over to a nearby bench and sat down. The porter followed with my duffle bag. He asked if that'd be the school. I replied with the affirmative. 

 

There was no car to take me to the school, so I had no choice but to walk. As I left Bamfylde Halt Station I heard my doctor's voice echoing in my head. _Now, listen to me... Your alright now, your in England... Your getting better... Who are you? You're Second Lieutenant Powlett-Jones of the South Wales Boarders. Who are you? Who are you?_  
"I'm David Powlett-Jones." I said aloud, as I limped heavily off along the roadside.  
_Good man._

 

After walking some three miles the sight that greeted me from this distance of Bamfylde School was a sight for sore eyes. It was a vast white mansion sat next to a church.  
I came round the bend and made my way down the long drive leading up to the imposing school. Half way up the drive I stopped and watched the boys play a game of ruby. It's odd how watching the boy's play on the muddy pitch, brought back memories of being in the trenches, the gun fire, bodies dead, lying half caked in mud and gore. 

 

I stood outside the Headmaster's rooms waiting to be let in, why am I here? I don't even have a degree in teaching! I like history yes, but can I actually teach? Oh why did I agree to come here? I'm not sure what to expect. Could I do a good enough job of it? The door finally opened and I was welcomed in by the old headmaster Mr Algy Herries. A cheerful fellow. Abundantly so. We talked, I raved, proclaiming that I didn't know if I could teach. But Mr Herries wouldn't hear of it. In the end I agreed. To give it a go at least. 

 

Mr Herries took me out for a walk in the grounds after we had finished tea, he took me up to the old folly. A place he used to come to when he was a boy at Bamfylde himself. We talked some more, about discipline. How he only flogged the boys for two offences persistent lying and persistent bullying. Though apparently the Masters and Housemasters hand free reign on when they thought a good beating was deserved. I may look like a meek and week willed individual, I was before I went off to war. But as soon as I entered it it changed me. Oh I didn't come out of it like those tyrannical Sargent Majors, but it did beef up my confidence in a way. Made me more of a harder man for it. Although the shell shock shattered my confidence. Not all of it mind, but enough that loud noises make me jump. Whereas they didn't before. 

 

Later that afternoon I met with the other Masters in their common room. Howarth I liked, he wasn't as doddery as a few of the other retainers were. Carter on the other hand, I didn't much like, simply for the reason that he never entered into national service due to having a gammy knee from his schooldays. Now there's a liar. The man was scared. There's no harm in that. And now he teaches Science here at Bamfylde. 

 

As well as teaching the boys how to become soldiers. Well, good luck to him. But I won't be helping him. Not when he skived off helping out his country. Gammy leg or no.  
My first night at Bamfylde I didn't sleep well at all, my mind would not close off the past I had left behind in France. I woke up several times that night, pleading with myself to try and forget. In the morning I woke and dressed, today I would be teaching. I wish I'd had a decent nights sleep. 

 

I was sitting in the great hall with everyone else at breakfast not really eating much, mainly drinking tea and staring out over all the boys, who were staring back at me. One boy in particular caught my eye, the same one who I nodded to when I was walking up the drive on my way here yesterday. Something about him... I don't know how to describe it. Different. Yes, that was it. There was something different about him.


	2. Boyer

Boyer? Was that his name? I looked at him and when he laid his eyes on mine, I felt a spark I hadn't felt since before I joined the War. My cock stirred between my legs. Wrong though it was for me to get aroused by the sight of this boy, I was glad that it happened in a way. Glad that the War hadn't stunted my bodily functions, as I thought it had done for so long. Even though the boy was fully clothed, my eyes raked up and down his body. His thin built frame, his plump round backside in those black trousers looked delectable, even from this distance. What am I doing?! Lusting after a boy young enough to be my little brother! I blame it on the War. That the shell-shock had turned my head. Even though I try to rid myself of these terrible thoughts, they continue to haunt my dreams. 

 

I found out much later of course, that Bamfylde was a den of depravity. That most of the teachers and Housemasters had a time honoured tradition of taking a boy of their choice from amongst the upper years and using them in their own perverted and deprived way. Though there were the odd few who didn't go in for that sort of thing. Algy Herries and Howarth were two of them. They both preferred the fairer sex, though they both knew about the 'Old Tradition' but never said anything. They wouldn't. They were all for Tradition. When Boyer told me of this fact later on I felt more at ease with everything. 

 

Sometimes when I'm looking at Boyer, I get the feeling when he returns his beautiful eyes upon mine, that he is thinking the same thoughts that I am. But no! It's wrong! Very wrong! Today I am teaching and Boyer will be there. Sitting, listening to my voice drone on and on. And again my mind wonders off, wondering if the boy gets turned on by the sound of my voice. Sometimes I think I've seen him shift slightly in his seat. But I must be mistaken. 

 

I was very nervous that day, it was my first day of teaching and I wanted to do a fair good job of it. I entered the classroom, said good morning and the boy's stood up as I walked past them, down the aisle between the desks and up on to the raised platform in front of the large blackboard. I put down my books and turned to face the class.  
"Now, I understand, that with Mr Edgerton that that--" there was some sniggering going on. "That that with Mr Edgerton--"  
More sniggering broke out over my nervousness, so much so that I finally snapped at the main suspect in the right front row.  
"Would you like to say something to the class?"  
"No sir." The boy said. 

 

"Good. Alright." I said, pausing to check my notes. "Now I understand that you were studying, or were about to study the causes of the Civil War. Am I right?"  
The boys were all silent.  
"Well I-- I imagine that you're not so deeply immersed in the subject that a little revision wouldn't come amiss. I take it that you prefer oral revision? Or shall we make it a written test?"  
God! These boys were annoying by their silence.  
"Well, I've been lead to believe that you were a talkative class. Put your hand up if you prefer a written test."  
No one did. In fact they didn't do anything.  
"Good." I went on. "I prefer oral revision too. Now..." I said, pausing only to pick up one of my books I brought with me. "G. M. Trivellian I'm sure you've all heard of him. G. M. Trivellian thinks that the first Civil War was the decisive event in English history. Not one of the decisive events, but _The_ decisive event. Well would you agree with him? Erm..." 

 

I leant down to look at the register and so did not see one of the boys turn and throw a ball of paper to one of the others at the back of the room.  
"Dobson?" I looked up. "Where's Dobson?"  
A thin as a rake boy at the very back of the classroom raised his hand.  
"Err, would you stand up please?" I asked.  
The boy did, somewhat reluctantly.  
"Would you agree with him?"  
"I don't know, sir." Dodson replied.  
I raised a brow.  
"No opinion, Dobson? No opinion at all?"  
"No sir." He said with a slight smile.  
"You have done _something_ on the Civil War have you?"  
"Well, sort of, sir."  
"I see." I said, not really believing what the boy said for a moment. "Sort of? Well then, what were Mr Edgerton's views on the Civil War? Now, presumably if he didn't invite your opinions, he favoured you with his own. Did he?" I asked. "Dobson?"  
Something was going on, if that ever present smirk on Dobson's face was to go by. Fine then. I'll play along. 

 

"Erm not exactly, sir."  
"Then, how did he tackle it?"  
"Well, he sort of stood where you're standing now, sir." Dobson went on. "And shouted for us to be quiet."  
"Threw chalk at us, sir." Piped up the boy in front of Dobson.  
"--And ran out of the room." Dobson finished to gales of laughter.  
"I see. Thank you." I said. "Thank you! Be quiet! Well, it's about time you started thinking then isn't it? I'm sorry if you're not used to it. But let's start with a question that you can answer, Dobson. Which side was victorious in the Civil War? King or Parliament?"  
"Erm..."  
"Come along boy."  
"Parliament, sir."  
"Thank you, Dobson. You may sit." 

 

I went on with what I thought was an interesting hypothesis. I put it to them that if they supposed Parliament hadn't won the war, what would've happened? What sort of country would we be if Charles had won? What country would we be living in now? The boy's in the front row were whispering and I asked them of their opinion. One of the two stated that my hypothesis wasn't history. No, it wasn't. But it's a good question. 

 

What is history? The boy's answer was things that really happened of course, and he was right. But who says what happened? The history books. And who writes them? Not me or these boys. Nor Charles the first either.  
"The history that we read," I concluded, "tends to be written by the winners. Well you can all see that that's true. Can't you? If the Royalists had been victorious well they'd have written the history of the war. And we wouldn't just be reading different facts, we'd be reading about how valuable and essential the Royalists victory was. Just as the history of the war that we're engaged in now, would be written by the country that wins it. We think that we know the truth, but our descendants will--" 

 

I was cut off by the boy at the back of the room sitting next to Dobson, gasping loudly and shaking his head side to side. His face scrunched up as though in pain.  
"It's Boyer, sir." Dobson said. "I think he's having a fit, sir!"  
I looked on with shock, as Dobson stood up and proclaimed he knew what to do, while others stated that he didn't know what to do. The boy fell off his chair and collapsed, rather lamely in my own opinion on the floor, as Dobson and the others crowded round. So that was their plan all along. In honour of my being here I suppose. An old veteran of the war, invalided out of action because of shell shock. 

 

So, they decided to fake an epileptic fit. When I realised this I became angry. It was time to give my right arm a good workout.  
"Alright. BE QUIET!" I boomed out. MOVE!"  
Everyone barring the coughing boy on the floor went back to their places and sat down.  
"I was only trying to help, sir." Dobson said softly, from where he stood by the door.  
I looked up coldly from the pathetic excuse of acting lying on the floor in front of me, to Dobson, before lowering my eyes back down to the curled up form on the flagstones.


	3. Boyer's Punishment

"Get up, Boyer." I said quite calmly.  
Boyer, red faced stood up and after righting his shirt and coat tails, looked up at me.  
"Well that's quite a performance. Oh, you're very good, you are. It's that partner of yours that lets you down."  
Boyer looked slightly puzzled.  
"Well look at him. I mean he's hopeless, man." I went on. "I've seen better actors in performing Dog Acts. Alright, I think it's only fair to warm you that I don't appreciate the little stunt you just tried to pull on me. I know all the forms of hysteria there are, in fact I'M AN EXPERT SEE!" I shouted, before continued on at a more sedate pace. 

 

"I spent the last seven months in shell-shock wards. I know what the real things like."  
I watched the boy's as they looked away from me, or bowed their heads in shame. I paid particular attention to Boyer.  
"Feeling a bit better now then, are you Boyer?" I asked.  
"Yes, sir."  
"Well, that's good." I replied. "You will report to my room's tonight after dinner for your punishment. Is that understood?"  
"Yes sir." Boyer replied sullenly. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

"You wanted to see me, sir."  
"Come in, Boyer. Stand here, facing the desk."  
Boyer did as he was told.  
"Now, as I said earlier today in class after your atrocious acting, that you would come and see me after dinner for your punishment. You will therefore, receive a sound thrashing. You'll drop your trousers and your underpants and bend over my desk."  
"Yes sir." 

 

Boyer bent over my desk and spread his legs as far as his trousers and underpants around his ankles would let him. I ran my right hand over his firm plump backside and heard Boyer's breathing pick up slightly. I raised my hand and brought it down with a firm harsh smack to the right cheek. Boyer gasped and jumped. I steeled myself and began to reign down harsh heavy blows, using what full strength I had to administer the spanking. All the while the boy gasped, jumped and whimpered in front of me. 

 

As I gave Boyer a good spanking with my hand, I gave into my urges - I couldn't help it! Not when the boy was stood, half naked in front of me. I tried my feeble best, but my urges won outright. I let my left hand roam up and down Boyer's chest, then down and grabbed his cock. Boyer groaned as I squeezed him, and continued to tan his backside. It wasn't long before the boy was moaning loudly and cumming all over my desk. I had chosen well it seemed. My own cock was hard and aching, straining for release from the confines of my trousers. 

 

"You dirty boy, Boyer." I said, leaning close to his ear. "You've cum all over my desk, see."  
I stopped spanking him and grabbed the back of his head with my right hand and forced his head down. His face now resting in his cooling cum.  
"Lick my desk clean, boy." I said. "Lick it clean. Afterwards, you'll be getting the cane. Then you can strip completely and kneel at my feet. Understood?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Then do as you're told."  
With that, Boyer licked my desk clean. 

 

Once Boyer had been thrashed until his backside was a deep red hue, I stopped and he stripped out of his remaining clothes, and knelt on the floor at my feet. We looked at each other, for a moment or two.  
"I have chosen you, boy." I said, looking into Boyer's flushed and tear streaked face. "You will come to me when I need you. And you will come to me, when you need me. When you need me to give you a thrashing, help and advise, or simply just to listen. Understood?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Very well, then. Come up here." I said, patting the empty seat next to me. 

 

Boyer stood up and sat down, then curled up into my side, much like a dog or cat would do. I placed my left arm around his shoulders and kissed his head, before pulling up down so that he was now lying on his side, with his head resting on my hard and straining cock. I stroked his hair with my right hand, while I ran my left over his smooth body. Along the side and over his hips and down over his tanned backside. He shuddered and mewled as my hand ghosted over his tanned flesh, then he gasped and moaned as I slipped my thumb into the crack of his bottom and racked it over his tightly puckered hole. 

 

"Please, sir!" Boyer moaned.  
"Please what, boy?"  
"Anything, sir!"  
"I won't be taking you tonight, Boyer." I said softly. "I'm sure you can wait until the weekend. On Friday night, you will wait until everyone in your dorm has gone to sleep, then you will come here. In here you'll complete your homework, before I take you. Understand?"  
"Yes, sir." Boyer gasped again, as I pushed my thumb against his dry tight ring, not entering, just applying a little pressure.  
"In the mean time, before I send you back to your room tonight, you will practice sucking my cock. Sit up." 

 

Boyer sat up and watched as I undid my trousers and finally released my rather large cock and heavy bollocks. I was roughly about eight and a half inches long and quite thick. I looked up at the boy and noted that his eyes were wide with shock.  
"Well? You going to get some practice in tonight, boy?" I asked.  
Boyer slid off the sofa and onto the floor where he knelt in between my parted legs and bent down over my impressive meat. He looked up at me before I placed my right hand upon his head and gently pushed him down. All in for a first attempt the boy wasn't half bad at blowing me. He would with practice become fluent in the art of blowing. Once I had cum down his throat, holding his head in place while he gagged on my salty essence, I told him to get dressed and return to his own rooms. Tonight was the first night that my dreams had been pleasant.


	4. Hysteria

Today was Friday. It had been a few days since the beating of Boyer that things began to change between the boy and myself. It was eleven thirty, well past the time when all the boys should be sound asleep. I was seated at my desk sorting out a few things when a knock wrapped on my door. It opened and Boyer came in.  
"Ah, Boyer." I said turning to face him. "Come in and sit down."  
He walked further in and sat down in one of the many chairs in my sitting room. 

 

"Now then, Boyer. Any guesses as to why I wanted to see you?"  
"Felt like a chat, sir? He asked with a smile. "Or maybe... something else sir." He added with a wink.  
"I've had a chat." I replied straight faced. "With Mr Barnaby."  
That wiped the smiled from his face.  
"Oh." Boyer returned, now finding my floor interesting to look at.  
"I'd just like you to tell me, if the night before last you borrowed a motorbike... disguised yourself in a false beard and moustache, rode to the Malsters Arms and drank a half a pint of beer there, in the presence of Mr Barnaby?"  
"Err, not quite, sir."  
"Well?" I asked, waiting for the excuse. 

 

"It was a pint of beer." Boyer said. "I bought half a pint for the landlord, it was a bet sir."  
"And what do you suppose prompted you to this idiotic performance?"  
"I'm not quite sure, sir." Boyer replied. "I was very elated at having passed a maths test at last and... I'm afraid I've always had a tendency to exhibitionism."  
"Exhibitionism?" I was surprised, before I continued on my voice raised. "DON'T YOU QUOTE YOUR FANCY FREUDIAN WORDS AT ME! I COULD GET YOU KICKED OUT FOR THIS, DID YOU KNOW THAT?!" 

 

Boyer stood up suddenly.  
"Where do you think you're going?" I asked sternly.  
"Nowhere, sir. I just thought I aught to be standing up." Boyer replied quickly.  
"In the corner I suppose? Oh sit down you idiot! Before I haul you over my knee."  
"Thank you, sir." Boyer sat.  
I took up some papers and calmed myself, it amazed me how Boyer could get my blood pumping, with very little effort. 

 

"How long have you been at Bamfylde, Boyer?"  
"Nearly six years, sir."  
"Longer than me." I said. "And I was hoping to give you some responsibility this year..."  
Boyer shook his head.  
"Does that mean I've been passed over, sir?" He asked, looking suddenly sad.  
He wasn't thinking that I'd pass him off for another boy now, did he? I asked myself, as I placed the papers on my desk. 

 

"Don't worry, Boyer." I went on. "I'm not letting you go for one of the other boys. I chose you after all. No, I had thought about taking a gamble on you and making you my House Captain. I will take that gamble boy, but by god you better not let me down. Or I shall give you a beating if you do. Of course everyone will think that I'm completely off my head. So it's up to you Boyer to prove them wrong. Can you do that?"  
"Yes sir!" Boyer said as he stood up.  
"Good. Now, as we have some free time why don't you strip out those clothes and join me in the bedroom. Hurry now."  
Boyer smiled as he hurriedly began taking off his clothes. 

 

I did as I promised Boyer I would. I fucked him good and hard, taking away his virginity. After he got my cock nice and wet I spread his legs wide apart and slid slowly into his tight heat. God he was tight. After pausing a moment or two to let Boyer get used to the feeling of my wide girth, I continued to slide deeper. Only stopping once I was fully sheathed bollocks deep in the boy. Boyer was panting and breathing heavily. His eyes filled with pain and yet love as well. I leant down and kissed his soft lips gently and asked if he was alright. 

 

Once he nodded that he was, I sat back up and pulled back almost all the way out of that wondrous heat, before I slammed back in in one harsh thrust, nailing the boy's prostate dead on. Boyer cried out in painful-pleasure and was soon begging and pleading with me to go harder and faster. All the while the contractions I felt in his backside were wonderful. I didn't want to ever pull out of him, but Boyer screamed and came hard all over himself, clenching hard around me. I had no choice but to fuck him harder still. Until I finally thrust one last time, before filling him up with my white hot essence. 

 

I pulled out once the afterglow had died, and helped Boyer to roll over on to his stomach. Suffice it to say I spent all night long plundering Boyer's hole and throat, multiple times until the early hours of Saturday morning. And even though when he woke up later in the morning, before letting him leave to shower and change I fucked him again. Though he pleaded that he was too sore to be taken, he quickly changed his mind as soon as I nailed his prostate again. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

I didn't see Boyer again, not until he hurried into my rooms without knocking proclaiming that 'Spats' Winterbourn had disappeared, yet he had left most of his things in his locker. The boy hadn't been seen all day. Not since Boyer had broken up a small scuffle between Winterbourn and Curtiss about the boy's mater. I could see that Boyer was beside himself with worry. After all, even though he hadn't become House Captain yet, he desperately wanted the job. To prove to not just himself and me that he could be responsible, but to the other Masters as well. 

 

For the rest of the day I along with Boyer made absolutely sure that Winterbourn wasn't simply hiding anywhere in House or the school, I was becoming concerned and had informed the other Masters and Headmaster Algy Herries, but it was Boyer who was worrying himself silly. That night I literally had to drag Boyer back with me to my rooms, where I had to restrain him. 

 

Hysteria, now there's a word I thought I would never have to associate with Chad Boyer. Obviously the thought of loosing the House Captaincy post, before he'd even got it was too much to bare. I did the only thing I could think of to snap him out of it. I turned him round and gave him six hard swats to the seat of his trousers. That did it. Boyer calmed down and turned back to face me, only to hug me for dear life and break down on my shoulder.  
"There, there, Boyer. Shh." I said softly as I held him to me and rubbed his back soothingly. 

 

"I'm sorry sir," Boyer cried softly now.  
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault that Winterbourn ran off. It was bound to happen, what with everything that's been in the papers." I replied.  
"I--"  
"Yes, Boyer?"  
"Can I stay with you tonight, sir?" He asked. "I don't think I can stand being alone."  
I said that that was alright and that he could stay. I put him to bed, sending him off with pleasant dreams of how I would take him again and again tomorrow. Boyer fell asleep with a soft smile on his face.


	5. Winterbourn Lost

I left Boyer to sleep, while I went and made sure everyone else was alright. Then I made my way to Algy Herries rooms and informed him that Boyer would be sharing my rooms tonight, after his little hysteria fit. Algy agreed that Boyer shouldn't be left alone and that we couldn't really do much more searching tonight, so bid me good night. I returned back to my rooms and after I had undressed, I got into bed beside Boyer, who immediately cuddled into my side where he stayed for most of the night. 

 

The next morning I woke to the warm wet delightful mouth of Boyer deepthroating me. It was a marvellous way to wake up in the morning. I fisted my hands into his hair on the back of his head and began to skull fuck his throat for all I was worth. Boyer gagged and choked a bit, but otherwise he took me without complaint. 

 

Once I had cum down his throat I pulled his head off me and hauled him up my body. We kissed, while I took my right hand and fingered his tight hole. Boyer whimpered and mewled into my mouth as he began to grind himself down on me, hoping he could get off.  
I broke the kiss and pushed him gently off of me. I laid him flat on the bed and sat up and looked down into his beautiful eyes, while I fisted his cock with my hand and began to vigorously jerk him off. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

With the help of Boyer, who was surprisingly calm this time round (all that sex must have helped some), we went down to the locker room and searched for Winterbourn's art portfolio. I remembered Boyer saying something yesterday when asking about what was left in the locker, related to art. I opened the door and began rummaging through the shoes, pads and jumpers until I found it. Winterbourn's portfolio was hidden under a shirt. 

 

I opened it and rifled through the sketches. Very well drawn they were too. There was nothing there, or so I thought. At the back in a tied up case were more pictures. Watercolours to be precise. There were two of Bamfylde. One done from the drive and the other from the folly. The third painting was of a rocky outcrop upon the moor. I thought that I had seen it somewhere out on my own walks over the moor, but where? Boyer took the painting and turned it over.  
"Chetsford Tor, by E. W. Winterbourn." He read. 

 

"That's it! Where's the map?" I cried. Boyer handed me the map and I hurried to look over it.  
"You won't find it, sir." Boyer said. "I've never heard of Chetsford Tor."  
"Lucky for you, Boyer, I have." I said. "Yes! Here we are, Chetsford Tor."


	6. Found and Goodbye

Once Boyer was on his way after I had reassured him, I hurried back to my rooms where I donned my hat and coat, before I made my way down to Algy Herries' rooms and told him of mine and Boyer's findings. Herries was overjoyed, even more so when I told him that I going to go and fetch the boy.  
It took me an hour or so, I don't know really as I wasn't really counting. I found Chetsford Tor. It was some fifteen miles or so from the school. No wonder no one could find him yesterday. I walked around the summit and came to an entrance way, a cave-type opening. Sitting there under the shelter of the rocky outcrop the Tor provided was Winterbourn. He was sitting there sketching the scenery, or he was until I made my presence known. 

 

The boy looked up wide eyed at me. My stern countenance must have shocked him, as he jumped to his feet and backed away slightly, as I stepped forward and under the rocks, out of the fierce wind.  
"There-- There wasn't any need to come looking." The boy said. "I was going to come back today. I'm not sorry I came up here, sir. I suppose I'll be kicked out now anyway... S-Sir?"  
I continued stepping forward, slowly until I had backed the now slightly uneasy looking boy up against the back wall of the rock. With nowhere to go, I grabbed hold of the boy while he begged and pleaded to be heard out. 

 

I understood why he left, we all did back at the school. But there was no reason to go running off. I told him so to as I struggled with him in lowering his trousers and underpants, before bending him over my knee. Winterbourn continued to struggle, until I said, "I telephoned your father, boy. Do you know what he said to me? Hm? He said that when I found you, I was to take my belt off to you."  
And I did exactly that. Now with my belt in hand, folded in half, I bent the boy over further before I began to beat his bare backside with it. After a good five minute licking with the belt I stopped, stood the weeping boy up and righted his underpants and trousers before folding him in my arms until he had quietened down. Once I had helped him pack everything up, we made our way back to Bamfylde. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Boyer came to see me many times during the week leading up to his graduation. In that time we shared a smoke and we talked, as well as fucked. I could see in his eyes that he didn't want to leave Bamfylde. He didn't want to leave me I suppose. I never really asked him. On the last day, I thought about leaving to be with Chad Boyer, but Boyer convinced me to stay and I thank him for that. That night, Boyer came to my room's after packing his belongings and deepthroated me with all he was worth. After swallowing my cum down, he pulled off and kissed me. I wanted to make this the night we would both remember for a very long time afterwards. So I laid him down on his back, spread his legs wide apart and slammed into his tight heat in one harsh thrust. 

 

Boyer wailed and moaned, begged and pleaded, whimpered and cried for more as I fucked him good and hard, deep and fast. Once he had cum, I pulled out, flipped him over on to his hands and knees and slammed back in quickly. Suffice it to say, Chad Boyer had the best sexual marathon of his life with me at Bamfylde.  
I woke at dawn surprisingly and lay there next to Boyer curled up in my arms, my cock still buried deeply in him. Still hard even after last night. He would be leaving at ten o'clock. 

 

These last few remaining hours would be the last. And I never told him that I loved him. He told me hundreds of times that he loved me, but I always thought that it was just affection on his part. Little did I know then that he was actually in love with me. When Boyer woke, I flexed my cock buried in him still, making the boy moan. As I leant down and kissed him I began to thrust harshly into him once again. I planned to fill him full of cum, so he would ride back to London on the train with his pants full of cum. Boyer mewled at the very thought. 

 

That was the last time I saw Chad Boyer. It had been very lonely during the summer holidays. Made more so, by the fact that Boyer wouldn't be returning next year. How I was going to carry on here at Bamfylde without him I did not know, but I knew that I had to. I loved Bamfylde too much not to. Just as much as I loved Chad Boyer.


	7. Parsons and Pinkerton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 7-12 are based on: 'To Serve Them All My Days' The Headmaster book two, by R.F. Delderfield.

Five years have passed since Boyer left and I still miss having the boy around. Very much so. We wrote of course, but it wasn't the same. He had moved on, but I hadn't. It's a shame really that he had to leave, but he had finished his education. Still, Bamfylde wasn't quite the same. Oh, there were other boys most certainly, that I could take my pick of, but they weren't Boyer. Pining is a good word. I pined for Boyer. Badly. 

 

Today I was in my rooms seated at my desk. I picked up a piece of paper and spun round in my chair to face the two miscreants with their heads bowed, Parsons and Pinkerton.  
"Well then, Parsons, you might as well tell the truth. You were caught red-handed. I want to know why you did it. Some sort of reprisal was it?"  
I looked up at the boy, pausing for a moment. When I didn't get a reply, I shouted.  
"COME ON YOU MONSTER OF DEPRAVITY!" 

 

"Punity raid, sir."  
"Why Parsons?"  
"Well sir, he keeps on calling me... 'Hellish-Ponk'. It gets on my nerves, sir."  
"Yes, I can see that it would." I went on. "And erm, you felt that this punity raid with the stink bombs would be an appropriate rebuke, did you?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Little bit accessive don't you think?"  
"Well, he did dye the swimming pool red--" Parsons faltered. "Sir."  
I slowly turned his eyes from Parsons on to the boy standing next to him.  
"Is this true, Pinkerton?" I asked slowly. 

 

"Yes, sir." Pinkerton replied, his face pinking up slightly. "Sorry sir."  
"I should think you are! I hope you realise that you put the swimming pool out of action for a week and, involved the school in a great deal of expense!"  
"I didn't think sir." Pinkerton babbled.  
"Well, your father's not going to be very pleased with you is he? When he's the one who has to pay the bill."  
"No sir."  
"And what do you think your father would do to you, if he was here Pinkerton?"  
"He would give me a spanking, sir."  
"Hm." I went on. "And you, Parsons? What would your father do, if he were here?"  
"The same, sir." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

"Very well. Parsons, Pinkerton, you will both stand there. One at a time you will come forward. You will lower your trousers and your underpants to your ankles and bend over my knee. The both of you will be given a damn good beating on your bare backsides." I stated.  
Both Parsons and Pinkerton looked shocked at each other, their eyes wide and mouths agape.  
"Well, what are you waiting for Parsons?! Come here and strip!"  
"-Sir."  
Parsons almost ran the few feet over to me, stood by my side, hurriedly lowered his trousers and underpants, and finally bent over my knee. 

 

I stretched out my left leg, lowering it and raised my right knee high, so that Parsons' backside was higher. I raised my right hand and brought it down with all my strength, firmly and soundly onto the boy's behind. Soon I was spanking the boy in earnest. Listening to his whimpers and gasps, as I continued to administer the blows. Pinkerton I noticed was getting fidgety. He couldn't stand still, all the while watching my hand beating Parsons. 

 

As soon as I had finished dealing the final blow to Parsons' backside, I told him to get up and stand facing the door. Without getting dressed again. I then took hold of the already blubbering and fidgeting mess that was Pinkerton and hauled him over. I pulled down the trembling boy's trousers and underpants myself, as Pinkerton seems unable to do so and lowered him over my waiting knee.  
He broke into gales of tears, as I rested my already stinging hand upon his bare backside. It was Pinkerton's own fault and with that I began to beat him too. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

"You can both get dressed."  
The boy's hurriedly got dressed again and gasped at the feel of cloth on their tanned behinds, but made themselves as presentable as they could under the circumstances.  
"Right, now, are there anymore monstrous crimes going to come to light?" I asked, eyeing the boys shrewdly. "Well?! Do I dare ask why you did it?!"  
"It was just a... joke, sir." Pinkerton returned, his face still blotchy and tear streaked.  
"Well, I'm on the swimming team, sir." Parsons relied. "He knows I train every morning."  
"Ah, yes, I see." I said, nodding my head. "Clear as crystal. So, what's next on the program? Hm? Are you planning to lay mines on the rugger pitch? Because Pinkerton here, plays for the Colts 15? Would that be the plan, Parsons?"  
"No sir." 

 

"NO IT WILL NOT! Because this feud is going to stop isn't it?"  
"Yes sir." Parsons went on, his head bowed.  
"Pinkerton?"  
"Yes sir." The boy replied with a nervous gulp. Most probably expecting another beating if he didn't answer me.  
"Because I have no wish to be blown up or gassed or some side effect of your sordid squabbles. Do you follow?" 

 

"Yes sir." Pinkerton said.  
"Good. Otherwise the both of you would be dragged back in here, where you would receive another, more harsher beating." I looked at the two red-faced, highly embarrassed boys. "Now listen very closely, Parsons and Pinkerton. You will spend every second of you free time, from now on in the lumber room beneath the stage. You will clear it out. You will clean it, sweep it, dust it, paint it and decorate it. And when you're finished, it will be fit to entertain royalty. Do you follow?" 

 

"-Yes sir."  
"-Yes sir."  
"And if you work like slaves, it should take you about a fortnight. And when finally you both crawl out of that black hole, Parsons and Pinkerton, you will be tiered, dirty, physically exhausted, but morally uplifted. And you will be firm friends. And that's an order. Got it?"  
"Yes sir," said Parsons.  
"Take yourselves out of my sight, you evil little toads."  
With that, the two boys turned and left my rooms, both rubbing their smarting backsides. 

 

As soon as they left, I collapsed back into my chair. Pinkerton's backside reminded me so much of Boyer's, so much so that I felt the spark that I felt with Boyer. I knew that I could take another boy - but I also knew that I could never love him as much as I do Boyer. It didn't matter if Boyer ever found a nice young wife, and settled down with a family. I would always love him no matter what. 

 

**\- DPJ/B -**

 

I was frustrated these days, but I never let it show in front of the boys or other Masters. Although Pinkerton came close. He came to my room's one evening, because he was concerned for me. I had had a little too much to drink and took him. I told him during the act that I could not love him as I hold that for another, but I would be there for him if ever he needed me, or I needed him. Pinkerton cried and moaned with want and need, throughout my taking of him. He wanted it, just as much as I needed it. The next morning I woke to find the boy curled up in my bed next to me. 

 

I ran my hand over his backside and into his crack, finding that he was still slick from my taking of him multiple times during the night. I guided my hard cock back into his gaping and sloppy hole and began to thrust slowly. Pinkerton whimpered and moaned as he woke up. He asked me to take it out as he was swore from last night, but I needed this. Boyer had taken it multiple times during his first night with me and once or twice in the morning. He too had begged me to stop due to soreness, but I didn't. And Boyer had thanked me for it afterwards. Pinkerton would do the same.


	8. Running For Headmaster

In the Masters common room were Barnaby, seated on the sofa and Howarth in his usual armchair. Howarth was in the midsts of a small coughing fit, while inhaling constantly on his ever fixed Gold Flake. "Oh, what a wonderful life it is, Barnaby." He said finally, as he took the smoking stub from his lips and put it out in the ashtray beside him, only to take out his packet and begin lighting up another one. "If you don't weaken."  
"Have you ever thought that that cough of yours might have some connection, with those cigarettes you keep smoking?" 

 

"Now that is a strikingly original suggestion." Howarth replied, inhaling deeply and going back to reading his paper.  
Just then Carter entered the room and came to stand in front of the fireplace, where he stood at ease with one hand behind his back, while the other took out his pocket watch.  
"Well," he said, "he's announced it at last. And not before time."  
"Delighted to hear it, Carter." Howarth replied, not looking up from his paper. "May one ask who has announced what?"  
"If you can't be bothered to turn out for morning chapel, I don't see why I should tell you what you've missed. Damned if I do." 

 

"Carter, you are absolutely right to rebuke me. I feel a great sense of shame. I have no right to know your exciting news." Howarth went on.  
"Enlighten our--"  
"Neither has Barnaby!" Howarth cut right through Barnaby. "Ignorance shall be our punishment."  
"Well, its Algy Herries of course." Carter stated. "He's definitely retiring at the end of this term. They'll appoint a new Headmaster, as soon as possible after that. He's made up his mind at last."  
"Well, well, well." Howarth mumbled. "That is sad news. He's only about eighty-five, isn't he? Barnaby and I were hoping he would go for his century. Weren't we Barnaby?"  
"He's not as old as that, as well you know." Carter returned, as he walked over to the window. "Well, I think he's made a very wise decision. Obviously he wants to enjoy his retirement, and he sees the need to give way to new blood." 

 

"New blood, eh? Sounds a bit gory. Any particular blood in mind?" Howarth asked, still reading his paper. "Hm?" He finally looked up at Carter. "You don't by any chance see yourself as our revered Head Leader, do you Carter?"  
"Well, I did think I'd have a crack at it, yes as a matter of fact."  
Howarth turned and looked at Barnaby chuckling.  
"Something funny about that, Barnaby?"  
"Oh, no, no, not at all." Barnaby said, looking up at Carter. "You'd erm... convert us into some sort of military academy I expect, would you?"  
"I don't think that's funny, Barnaby." Carter turned away. "I'd make changes of course." 

 

"I really think he fancies his chances, Barnaby." Howarth said.  
"Hmm."  
"Well, who else will they choose?" Carted asked pompously. "If they're going to go for an internal appointment. Your the wrong age now, Howarth."  
"And the wrong temperament." Howarth added.  
"And Barnaby and Irvine are quite happy enough where they are, I reckon."  
"Oh, indeed yes." Barnaby nodded.  
"So there you are."  
"Carter, I hate to introduce an element of doubt and uncertainty into all this, but a..." Howarth went on. "If I had any say in the appointment, I'd say that a very strong candidate would be David Powlett-Jones." 

 

"PJ?" Carter was stunned. "You're mad."  
"Oh, you're sadly wrong there, Carter. Very strongly fancied. Isn't he Barnaby?" Howarth asked winking slightly when Barnaby looked at him.  
"Oh yes, yes. Very. One hears his name mentioned everywhere." Barnaby reiterated to Carter.  
"You're not serious?"  
"Care for a tiny wager?" Howarth asked. "Ten shillings perhaps? You back yourself, if you care to take the risk? And I'll back David. The bets off if an outsider gets it. No? Ah well. I quite understand."  
"Damn it, Howarth! You're on."  
And with that Carter left the room. 

 

"You don't seriously think PJ's got a chance, do you?" Barnaby asked Howarth, who was chuckling again.  
"Worth ten bob just to see Carter's face. For a man of means, like myself."  
They went back to their papers.  
"Still," Howarth said after a moment, looking up, "wouldn't it be fun if he did beat Carter to it." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

"I do hope I'm not disturbing you?" Howarth asked as he walked into my study, while I closed the door.  
"Oh, no, no." I said. "To be honest I could do with a break from writing. Have some Gin."  
"Thanks." Howarth replied as he lit a cigarette. "I've done rather a silly thing, David. Young Carter was being quite unusually insufferable this morning, and I found myself betting him ten bob that you'd be the next Headmaster of Bamfylde."  
"Me?!" I said surprised, bringing over two glasses of Gin. "Oh dear that was silly."  
"Hm." Howarth took the glass from me. "I er, don't suppose you would give me a run for my money?" 

 

I looked up at him as I took out my own cigarette.  
"I wouldn't want to run against you." I said.  
"Oh, no danger of that." Howarth went on. "As Carter delicately reminded me I'm the wrong age for the job. Not that I ever saw myself pontificating on platforms or, selling the virtues of this little monastery to tearful mothers and pop-bellied papas."  
Howarth took a swig of his Gin, while I lit up my cigarette.  
"Huh," I laughed. "You do make it sound attractive." 

 

"Strangely enough," Howarth continued, "I think you could do it. Oh, not in the Herries Style of course, that's unique. But I think the place could do with a bit of youthful enthusiasm. And one prefers the devil one knows." He took a gulp of Gin again. "I'd be... quite content to work out my days here, with you as Head. So I quite understand if the whole idea revolts you."  
Howarth finally sat down in one of my armchairs.  
"I'll just say goodbye to my ten bob and hope that some outsider pips Carter to the post."  
He looked up at me, as I looked down at him from where I stood in front of the other armchair, with a frown on my face.  
"My dear fellow, don't give it another thought." 

 

"You don't really think," I said as I finally sat down, "I've got a hope in hell do you?"  
"Well, you've served successfully under Herries. You've got a damn good degree... unless the governors want a complete change of direction, you must be in with a chance."  
"Yes. But I'm only thirty-one, you know." I stated.  
"I see I'm tempting you." Howarth fixed his cigarette between his lips and sat back before continuing, "Well, let's see. Only thirty-one. 'Brilliant young man with a sense of tradition', how does that sound?"  
"Oh yes, very convincing." I replied. "Except I'm not a brilliant young man."  
"Hm. I'd say your the nearest we've got. With a bit of luck the governors won't be able to tell the difference." 

 

I laughed and smiled.  
"You know, I would love to give Carter a fight for it." I said.  
"Not literally, I hope."  
"Oh, no, not this time. I gather you heard about that ridiculous flare up I had with him."  
"Oh we've forgotten all about that." Howarth replied.  
"I haven't. I behaved like a complete lunatic."  
"You know, in my languid way I admire you fellows who manage to get up such a head of steam. Very invigorating. Trick seems to be, pointing you in the right direction. The future of Bamfylde now... Were it to be turned into an exam factory, or remain a place fit for human beings - Like you and me. Now, that does seem worth getting steamed up about. Hm?" 

 

After hearing that I agreed with what Howarth said, and told him that I would apply. Then he asked me if I realised that I would have to work for it. Canvassing was a crude word in Howarth's book, but in a sense yes I would, if I didn't simply want to hand Carter the Headship on a plate. Howarth then told me that Carter would try to get Alderman Blunt in his pocket. That he or Blunt would work in a couple of those sleepy old fence squatters. I asked if Herries had a say in it? In which Howarth smiled.  
"There you are, you see. Not so difficult once you start, is it?" He said. "Herries doesn't have a vote, but unofficially he'll have enormous influence. Then in a little while you might find... Brigadier Cooper in your corner. Ever since that row over the war memorial, he's thoroughly approved of you. Because he sees you as an arch-traditionalist. Mustn't disabuse the poor old chap, must we?" 

 

"You've got it all worked out, haven't you?" I said.  
"Bamfylde's Armchair Machiavelli." Howarth dubbed himself.  
I smiled and then frowned in thought before asking.  
"But look, I don't want to sound pi but, isn't this supposed to be about the future of the school and what sort of education we want for the boys, isn't it?"  
"Of course it is." Howarth finished. "Ends and means my dear chap. Ends and means."

 

Once Howarth left, I sat there ruminating. After I admitted to myself that it would be interesting to be the next Headmaster of Bamfylde, I set to work on thinking about how I thought Bamfylde should be run. The one thought I had was, that there would have to be changes, but not too many. I wrote down a few ideas before I stopped mid flow and looked up at nothing really. One thing came to mind just then and it constantly niggled at me. Did I really know enough to take on such a position? 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Unfortunately in the end neither myself nor Carter were chosen for the post of Headmaster, instead it went to a man called Alcock. Howarth's description of the man was accurate, he was a rather cold fish. I had entered the Masters common room earlier before the interview, and both Barnaby and Howarth took the delight in telling me about Carter and his bloody shirt, when I asked where he was. Apparently he had cut himself shaving that morning and once informed of this fact, he had run with a great howl back to his House to change. Much to the amusement of Howarth and Barnaby. It was then that Howarth told me of the two other outsider candidates: Pettigrew. A nervous man all of a dither and full of confusion. And Alcock. Who in Howarth's opinion was a very cold fish indeed. Perhaps a stuffed Pike was a more apt description. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Four weeks Alcock had been Headmaster at Bamfylde and already he was putting us teachers on edge. No one had seen him since Algy Herries introduced him in the great hall four weeks ago. In our common room Carter was raging that the man hadn't consulted any of the teachers on any of his workings. All he seemed to do was talk to the Prefects and House Captains but not us. Howarth told us of a Headmaster he had the delights of working for at a school he was at before joining the staff here at Bamfylde. 

 

"He's biding his time. That's what all Headmasters do, and then with a terrible swiftness they strike. Or on the other hand they don't. When I was at Cheltonbury, we had a man like that. Bradman. Came from the north. Very big, very grim, very silent. Biding his time as we always said. Well, after he'd been biding his time in his study for three years, we began to wonder. After five years he became so bored, he eloped with his secretary and started an office cleaning business in Leeds."  
Everyone barring Carter laughter.  
"Always admired that man." Howarth went on. "Maybe that's what Alcock's going to be like."  
"I don't believe that for a moment," I said, "and neither do you."  
"Don't I? Well, perhaps not. I expect he's saving up all his true warmth and jollity to release upon us at Algy's farewell supper." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Barnaby entered the Masters common room where we all were, either sitting or standing and informed us where Headmaster Alcock wanted to have a staff meeting.  
"The latrines!" I exclaimed in disbelief, standing up and folding my newspaper. "He wants a staff meeting in the bog?!"  
"His express instructions gentlemen." Barnaby replied. "His message just asked to meet the Headmaster at ten a.m., in the old school latrines."  
I looked at Howarth before turning and walking over to the drinks cabinet. 

 

"Well, the fellow's lost his senses." Howarth stated as he moved to sit down along with Irvine the Sports Master. "Go back and tell him we're Schoolmasters, not Plumbers."  
"Well, it seemed perfectly serious." Barnaby went on.  
"Oh, well it's... original. You must give him that." I said, as I moved along behind the sofa Howarth and Irvine were occupying.  
"A lot of waters been passed since my last visit there." Howarth mumbled, not bothering to keep his voice low. "What can the man want?"  
"Well, whatever it is, it must pretty damn fundamental." Carter replied, then laughter at his own joke.  
"Carter." Howarth continued, looking scandalised. "You're making jokes again. I don't like the way things are going at all." 

 

In the end we all made our way to the old school toilets, where we found Headmaster Alcock already waiting for us inside.  
"Gentlemen." He said. "The reason why I took the... somewhat unusual step of asking you to meet me here. Was that I could not believe that any members of my staff, were aware of the state of these latrines."  
We all looked round at the heavily graffitied walls and doors of the room, while Alcock continued on.  
"It is my belief that the moral tone of the school is often most clearly reflected in its sanitary institutions, and from what I have seen here today has shocked and disgusted me more than I can say." 

 

He then turned and began opening all the stall doors for our own inspection of them.  
"I await your comments."  
It was I who spoke first.  
"With the greatest respect Headmaster, don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? I mean, well there not really so dreadful are they? I should imagine that most schools are much the same."  
"I sincerely hope you don't mean that. Powlett-Jones I've no idea what sort of schools you've been associated with, but no school of mine is going to tolerate such filth."  
"I believe it's a little homely tradition, Headmaster." Howarth said stepping forwards, then turned and stepped into a stall and out again. "One place in the school where even the most lowly can make his mark. If they can immortalise themselves here, then they'll leave the rest of the walls alone." 

 

"Then it is your view that the English public schoolboy has a deeply felt need to scribble on walls, like a common guttersnipe." Alcock stated.  
"Exactly, Headmaster." Howarth finished before walking off to the other side of the room. "And very well you put it."  
I couldn't help it, I bowed my head and smiled, laughing in my head.  
"I see." Alcock droned on, as he stepped over to the urinals. "I noticed that a... many of the names are inscribed in pairs. Has anyone any explanation for this?"  
"Well a..." Carter began. "They'd be friends of course." 

 

"Friends? I see." Alcock turned to the wall and asked. "And what about this. _'CARRUTHERS IS THE FASTEST IN SCHOOL HOUSE.'_ "  
There were a few giggles from us.  
"I want to know who Carruthers is, and what this message means?"  
"I think I can help you, Headmaster." Howarth replied. "I remember Carruthers from 1913. He was killed in the war."  
"Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to the meaning of the remark."  
"With pleasure Headmaster. Carruthers, as far as I remember opened the bowling for the first eleven." 

 

"I see. Very well gentlemen. Tomorrow this building will be completely redecorated from top to bottom. It will be spotless and will remain so, for I will not tolerate filth in this school, in any shape or form. That will be all."  
With that Alcock left.  
"Curious man." Howarth stated, as he turned and exited as well. "Now, do you suppose we'll be allowed to get on with our work?"  
Barnaby walked over to one of the stall doors.  
"PJ?"  
"Hm?" I turned back and stepped up beside Barnaby. He pointed at three lines etched into the door. _A HERRIES 1875 SAT HERE._  
"It seems a shame in a way doesn't it." Barnaby stated.  
I whole heartedly agreed.


	9. No Balls Alcock

Barnaby looked out of the window.  
"Look at old Stoker Monk, there." He said. I turned and looked out of the window too. "Off on his afternoon pipe."  
We watched as Monk made his way across the quad.  
"A man with but one thought in his mind." I said.  
"Well, there you are PJ." Barnaby went on, turning away from the window to sit down on the sofa. "Poor Carter's jawed him, beaten him and fucked him. Even pleaded with him to give up the filthy weed, to no effect. Though Carter still uses him from time to time. But with Alcock on the warpath of ridding us of our Traditions, well, it doesn't bare thinking about. We'll still do it of course. Alcock doesn't know about _our_ traditions. He just thinks the boys are at it with each other."  
"History never changes. So Alcock can try changing Bamfylde, but he won't succeed." I stated.  
"Quite right." Barnaby paused for a moment before continuing. "What I don't understand, is why the boy's have given Alcock the monicker of 'Noble'. I can't see why Alcock would be Noble." 

 

I had discovered the reason why a few days after our staff meeting in the bogs. I had been on my way down the main stairs when I found a group of boys huddled round the notice board, laughing. I shooed them away and found out for myself what was so amusing. I then removed the note signed by Alcock and put in my pocket. It was still in there, so I took it out and handed it over to Barnaby.  
"I think this will give you the reason why." I said, holding out the folded note.  
Eyebrows raised, Barnaby took the note, unfolded it and read it.  
"I don't see anything with 'Noble' in this, PJ." He said looking at me.  
"Look at Alcock's signature." I stated.  
Barnaby looked again.  
"Ah! Oh dear. 'No Balls' Alcock." Barnaby burst into laughter. "Have you told the Headmaster?"  
"No. Not yet." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

"I need your help, PJ." Carter said hurriedly. "I need you to sign a petition I'm starting, to keep Monk here until after his exams. Damn it all, I don't know what I'll do if Monk was thrown out now. How you managed after Boyer left beats me. I mean, Irvine has Nokes to pound away into, you now have Pinkerton, Barnaby has his boy and I have Monk."  
"Alright. I'll sign it." I said. "I'll try and get Barnaby and Howarth to sign it to."  
"Good show old man."  
"You just want to keep stoking Monk's hole, Carter. I can't blame you for that." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

I was sitting in the Masters common room marking and chatting with Howarth and the others, when Alcock came in. It was somewhat of a shock as the Headmaster never set foot in our room before. Algy Herries never did. Alcock cleared his throat and gained our attention, wether we wanted to give it or not.  
"I realise gentlemen that I'm interrupting your morning break, but I want to speak to you about an important matter." He said.  
Howarth sat down in his usual armchair and Carter cleared his throat with deliberate loudness and hid himself behind a newspaper.  
"A few days ago, I sent the Housemasters a note on the subject of unsuitable and unhealthy friendships. It has so far produced no response. I should like to know why? I should also make it clear that to _every_ member of staff to take note of these sentimental friendships between Senior and Junior boys." 

 

"And can I ask," Irvine asked, "what we're supposed to do about it?"  
"Simply report it to me, Irvine. I will relieve you of the task of interrogating the boys if you find it too much for you."  
"Headmaster?" Barnaby went on, as he poured himself some tea.  
"Mr Barnaby."  
"There's nothing of that kind in my House, I can assure you. Friendships yes, but harmless ones. I didn't want to trouble you with a blank report."  
"Harmless friendships between Senior and Junior boys?" Alcock repeated disbelievingly. "What makes you so sure of that?"  
"I am sure about the boys in _my_ House, sir." Barnaby replied affronted. "I don't speak for anyone else." 

 

"I see. Then gentlemen what I would like from you, is a list of these innocent friendships. I hope I've made myself clear? By Monday please." Alcock turned to leave. "Thank you gentlemen."  
I stood up and said to the man's retreating back that I too would not be sending a list either. That I too, knew for a fact that there was nothing untoward going on in my House. Alcock wasn't best pleased, but with so many of us Masters in the room, all he did was give me a nod before leaving us completely.  
I turned and looked at Barnaby, Irvine and Carter. We all shared a look that said we had better be very careful. One false move and our 'Tradition' could be blown clean out of the water so to speak. I thank god, that all the boys on entering our Houses on their first arrival at Bamfylde are sworn to secrecy about it. As tradition goes. The boys knew that if they ever broke that secrecy, they would be punished severely for it.

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

A few days later early evening found Howarth and Barnaby sitting alone in the Masters common room. Barnaby at the desk by the window and Howarth in his armchair, smoking as usual while marking essays. It didn't remain quiet for long however, as Barnaby sat up, slammed his pen down and kicked the leg of the desk.  
"It's intolerable!" He exclaimed, as he stood up. "Would you believe one man would spread so much misery?!"  
"Oh, come now." Howarth asked. "Isn't that putting it a bit strong?"  
"No it isn't!" Barnaby snapped back, standing beside Howarth. "Stephens in my House was in tears last night. He'd had twenty minutes with Alcock. He hadn't the faintest idea what the man was getting at. Except it was very serious and he must have done something terrible, for Alcock was threatening to write to his father." 

 

"Poor little begger." Mumbled Howarth, as he continued marking. "My Senior dorm seems to have tumbled it. They leap away from each other like jackrabbits, every time I set foot in the place."  
There was a moment of silence between the two, while Howarth finished his marking and Barnaby thought.  
"Um, Barnaby..." Howarth went on, angling his head to look up at his colleague. Barnaby blinked and turned to him. "Don't you think we're running rather a risk?"  
"How do you mean, Howarth?"  
"Well. Up here alone together... without a chaperone. If Alcock sees us, we'll be on the carpet tomorrow." 

 

"I'm afraid I can't find it funny." Barnaby replied. "I never imagined myself leaving this place but," he added, "if there is much more of this I'll be applying for other jobs. Like Carter and Irvine."  
"Seriously?" Howarth asked surprised, shifting in his chair to look over at Barnaby.  
"Seriously. Haven't you considered it?"  
"For the odd fleeting moment." Howarth went on. "But who would have us Barnaby? Who would have us?" 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

It was finally the end of term and I was walking across the quad to my taxi, when Carter came roaring up to me on his motorcycle. He asked if I was still interested in leaving Bamfylde and joining him at his own school. He had given Alcock his resignation and was leaving for good now. I told him that I must decline. That my place was here at Bamfylde. Carter was slightly put out of course, but he would get over it quickly enough. His type always did. 

 

I went home to Wales to see my mam and brother for the summer. I also got a few letters from Boyer. We still wrote to each other. He misses me still, just as I him. He had a job of sorts of which I can't remember what it was now. He had had several, before he found what he liked best. He still ended his letters with _All my love - Chad Boyer_. So did I in my letters to him. 

 

Soon though the holidays quickly came to an end, and I found myself back at home at Bamfylde, getting ready for the new term. I walked into the Masters common room to find a few things sitting in my pigeon hole and a slightly frazzled Howarth, sitting in his old armchair eyeing the two new teachers every so often, while perusing his correspondence. I went over and sat down next to him.  
"Morning Howarth."  
"Ah, David, glad you decided to martyr yourself for another term. I say, these new men don't promise to be very scintillating. One of them asked me, 'Do you play golf?' I replied, 'Occasionally, but I prefer to play by myself.' 

 

I laughed.  
"I think you're very malicious." I said.  
"Of course with time, I'll unbend to the man." Howarth went on. "So, you turned Carter's offer down?"  
"Yes, I did in the end. Felt a bit bad about it. But he let me off the hook. It seems he managed to find all the money himself."  
"Indeed he has. I loaned him three thousand, with a very gentle rate of interest."  
"You did?" I asked surprised.  
"Seemed a good way of killing two birds with one stone, dear boy." Howard replied. "Hasten the departure of my esteemed colleague and, remove his knee to take it with him." 

 

"And that's worth spending three thousand for?"  
"Oh, I don't doubt I'll get it back. Carter will be a roaring success as a Prep School Head. In every sense." Howarth removed his glasses. "It's erm... a long term investment too."  
"Oh? What's that?"  
"In my state of decrepitude, intelligent conversation is one of the few pleasures left to me. I should miss you very much if you left, you know."  
And with that said Howarth stood up and left the room mumbling.  
"I don't want to spend what's left of my declining years talking about golf."  
I laughed again. 

 

**\- DPJ/B -**

A lot had happened over the next month, my clashes with Alcock were moving on further. So much so that they culminated in the both of us facing the board of governors. Alcock was all for having me thrown out of Bamfylde, simply for defending some of the boys in my House and for trying to get the Headmaster to see sense in his ideas that were thorough misconstrued. The board heard both our sides and then spend the rest of the day deliberating on what to do. 

I was woken from my slumbers in my room later that night by a constant knocking on my door. I answered and Rigby, Alcock's aging butler came in all of a dither. He was worried. Alcock's light was still on, but he could get no answer from the man himself. Then he saw that my light was still on and came to get my help. I put on my jacket and we left. Once we were outside Alcock's door, Rigby unlocked it with his master key. 

"You're a man of many talents, Rigby." I said.  
"Thank you, sir." Rigby nodded and opened the door.  
I stepped into the dimly lit room and walked up to the still and silent man. I stopped halfway across the room. I didn't need to go any further, the paler of the man's face was all I needed to see.  
"Is he alright, sir?" Rigby asked from behind me.  
"He's dead." 

I waited for the doctor to arrive. While I waited, I took a few minutes to check that nothing was amiss and noted a letter upon Alcock's desk. I read it, before quickly taking it and putting it in my pocket. None too soon either, as a moment later the door opened and the doctor came in. Apparently it could've happened any time. Alcock had a week heart, something I'm sure he never told the governors about. They wouldn't have given him the job if he had. Once the doctor had finished his examination I left and went back to my rooms. 


	10. Headmaster Powlett-Jones

Howarth, Chetwynd, Barnaby and Molyneux were in the Masters common room the day of Alcock's funeral, sitting and reading the newspaper or marking in Molyneux's case.  
"He certainly stayed in-character to the last." Barnaby stated, while reading his newspaper. "No mourners, ashes to Johannesburg, no ceremony, no gravestone."  
He turned to look at the ever chain-smoking Howarth next to him. "For the sake of the boys, you'd thought there'd aught to be some sort of ceremony. But there's nowhere to move from the back door, just like the rubbish. As though he was never there."  
Chetwynd sighed and shook his head hidden behind his paper. 

 

"Yes, I must confess, to be a little piqued myself." Howarth returned, going back to reading his paper, his Gold Flake fixed between his lips in the right corner, as though it was permanently fixed as usual. "I wouldn't have attended myself of course, but I should've liked to have had the chance of refusing."  
Behind them, seated at the desk at the window Molyneux stopped marking and sat back.  
"I'd of liked to have had the chance of attending," he voiced his opinion, as he turned round to face the back of Howarth and Barnaby.  
"I'm glad you said that, Molyneux," Chetwynd stated, as he put down his paper, while Howarth and Barnaby both turned round to face Molyneux surprised. "So should I."  
"Just to make sure he was really dead, you know." Molyneux went on, making Howarth and Barnaby crack up with laughter. "Well, I was so frightened of the man."  
Howarth and Barnaby turned back to face Chetwynd. 

 

"Something the matter, Chetwynd?" Howarth asked.  
"I fail to see why you find this all so amusing that's all." Chetwynd went on pompously. "I know you think I'm pi. Or pompous."  
"Oh, no, no." Howarth frowned, the ash ever growing longer on his cigarette.  
"But I happen to think that your cheap synoecism about the man who's only been dead for two days... well, I find it thoroughly distasteful."  
Howarth took off his glasses and the ash on his cigarette finally fell on to his jacket lapel - not that he cared.  
"Well, you see, Chetwynd, the thing I find hardest to tolerate is hypocrisy. Especially when it takes the form of a sentimental regard for the dead, just because they are dead." He put his glasses back on again. "You hear some people talk, you'd think dying was limited to the 'chosen few'."  
"Excuse me." With that Chetwynd threw his paper down, stood up and left the room. 

 

"Oh dear," Howarth said, looking on with Barnaby, as Molyneux smiled and went back to his marking. "Have I upset Chetwynd again?"  
"You two don't seem very fond of each other." Barnaby stated.  
"But I enjoy his company, Barnaby." Howarth went on. "Really. For me he fills a yawning gap that's been there ever since Carter left."  
"He's very ambitious."  
"Oh, yes, indeed." Howarth said, as he perused his paper. "That's why we're bound in duty to complete the young fellow's education while there's still time."  
"Hmm."  
Behind them Molyneux stopped marking again and sat back.  
"Howarth?" He asked.  
"My dear fellow?" Howarth mumbled.  
"Who do you think will take over, as Head?" 

 

"It doesn't bear thinking about." Howarth went on.  
"Well, your the senior man."  
"Ah, no. Not for me. Not that I'd appeal to the governors." He flipped his paper to the other side. "They have such exotic tastes these days." He put down his paper and removed his glasses once more. "How do you think they'll follow a South African megalomaniac, with a keen interest in lavatories?"  
Barnaby and Molyneux burst into laughter, while Howarth sat there and pondered aloud.  
"These are men of vision, gentlemen." He said. "They'll be interviewing Red Indians, Patagonians... Eskimos even. Of course it's just a faint possibility that they might stumble to their senses and give David Powlett-Jones his chance at last." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

I left at the end of the meeting angry at Creighton for not giving the post of Headmaster to me, but to returning it to Algy Herries. I stormed off like an errant schoolboy not getting his way (a rather apt description that) and out into the grounds. In my rage I didn't hear old Algy running after me, calling my name.  
"David!"  
I continued walking.  
"DAVID!"  
I heard him the second time and finally came to a stop, letting him catch up. 

 

"Have - have - a - bit of decency man!" He panted heavily as he caught up to me. "We - we don't want - two - dead Headmasters - in one week! Oh, dear, oh dear."  
I let him get his breath back.  
"Oh, too many apple pies." Algy went on. "Too many buttered scones, with my old ladies. Phew... You just stand there a moment, there's a good chap." He took a deep breath. "I know it seems only yesterday I was doing the same to you." He patted my upper chest and shoulder. "My god there's plenty of you these days." 

 

"Look," I said, "I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather be alone. I don't think I make good company."  
"No, I'm sure you won't." Algy went on. "Frightens me to look at you and very hard cheese on you too. Going off for a quiet sulk on your own, and here comes old Algy Herries to irritate you. Huh? It's a beautiful day isn't it." He added looking around us, out at the grounds.  
"Yes."  
"You know, back there in that meeting I had the most extraordinary vision. I looked at you, and I looked at Sir Rufus, and I got this vidid impression that you were about to come across, pick him up and shove him in the wastepaper basket." Algy smiled at me. "Perhaps, it's not a bad idea." 

 

"He's a splendid old chap but he's too used to his own way. The view from the rubbish bin is a view that _everybody_ should have from time to time. Don't you think?"  
"Yes, well," I said as we started walking again, "it's a view I've had enough of lately. It looked as though it would give him great pleasure, if he gave me three years hard labour. Only the jury hadn't found the case not proven."  
"No, no, no, no, no. Oh, no, no, he was just a bit cross with you for bringing the matter up, that's all." Algy said. "He wanted a private chat but you wouldn't let him have it. He's used to his own way, you know. Doesn't like other people to have opinions." 

 

"Well, I don't see why he wanted me there at all."  
"Are you sure you don't?"  
"Well I wouldn't have said so otherwise." I replied.  
"Try and guess."  
I wasn't in the mood for guessing games.  
"I don't feel like playing games!"  
"Dear oh dear, oh dear." Algy said. "David! You are the heir apparent. The governors couldn't appoint you immediately, in fact it'll take some time to bring some of them round to it, but that's all to the good. Meanwhile, I can be teaching you the trade. 'Sitting next to Nelly' I believe they call it with me being Nelly, you see."  
"I don't believe it." I said chuffed.  
"Well, unless you start getting yourself involved in some other frightful scandal, you better start getting used to the idea." 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Oh the joys of another meeting with the board. Only this time however there was one difference. It was only myself, Algy Herries and Sir Rufus Creighton at this meeting. It had been six weeks since I was last here in front of the board putting forward my plan for adding a Propriety School on to Bamfylde, for students who wished to study higher courses. Creighton found my idea a good one then and asked me for a proper written thesis on it.  
In the here and now however, I was intrigued as to why they wanted to see me. 

 

"Well, now," Sir Rufus said, as he sat behind his desk looking at me, his hands clasped together, with old Algy Herries sitting in an armchair just off to his right also looking at me. "How long have you been at Bamfylde, Powlett-Jones?"  
"Fourteen year nearly." I replied.  
"Ah, yes. That must seem a very long time to you?"  
"No." I said with a smile, if slightly confused look on my face. "They've been the best years of my life."  
"Despite everything?" Algy asked.  
"Yes." 

 

"Would you say you've been suffering err... undue strain, during the past few weeks?" Sir Rufus asked.  
"No. I've been working very hard as you know. But, I wouldn't say I've been suffering undue strain. No."  
"But erm... a good long rest wouldn't do you any harm, would it?"  
"Well I could do with a rest myself at the end of this term." Algy replied, turned from me to look at Sir Rufus and back to me again.  
"I'm sorry sir, I don't quite see what you're getting at." I said really confused now. 

 

"Well, Powlett-Jones. Mr Herries and I have been going over this very carefully. And we have decided to put Barnaby in charge of the holiday tutoring scheme, with Molyneux as his assistant--"  
"What?" I asked shocked.  
"--Now," Sir Rufus went on overriding me completely. "You did say that you discussed a lot of the detail with Molyneux, so he'll be able to put Barnaby in the picture. You did think Molyneux a suitable man?"  
"Yes." 

 

"Good. So did we."  
"But I--" I was incoherent. "This was my scheme. I-I thought that it was understood from the beginning, that I was to be in charge of carrying it out."  
Sir Rufus grunted and looked at his desk.  
"I beg you to reconsider, sir."  
"No, no. I'm sorry. We prefer you to not have any heavy commitments during the holiday period."  
"Put the poor chap out of his misery, Creighton." Algy said, keeping his eyes on me.  
"Very well." Sir Rufus replied. "Mr Powlett-Jones, we would like you to take over as Headmaster, from the beginning of next term. With the firm understanding that the post will be made permanent at Easter."  
I sat there blank faced. I didn't know what to say. 

 

"He doesn't look exactly overjoyed, does he?" Algy asked Creighton, as they looked at my speechless form before them.  
"I'm sorry, I--" I finally said, remembering to breath. "It was a bit of a shock. I wasn't expecting this."  
"Well, PJ?" Sir Rufus asked me smiling broadly. "Would you like some time to consider it?"  
I allowed a small smile to grace my features.  
"No. I'll take it."


	11. Reunion

Three years have past since I became Headmaster of Bamfylde. Today I was visiting Howarth in hospital, his health was failing him. I made my way down the long ward that brought back long past memories for me, ones I had hoped to have forgotten by now. I found Howarth half lying, half sitting up in his bed looking a lot older and almost asleep. I smiled as I took the chair beside his bed and sat down.  
"Very good of you to come, PJ." Howarth said softly, breathing heavily. "This place must have some less than happy associations."  
"That's true." I replied.  
"Can't say I find it... congenial myself. In fact I loath the place."  
"I dare say, you'll be out of here and back with us before too long." I said. 

 

"My dear chap, don't let us pretend to each other..." Howarth went on feebly. "You know I'm dying. And so do I. Quack seems to feel, it's none of my business. Gauche young fellow. I was forced to be... rather severe with him. Three months he thinks. If there's going to be another war... at least I won't be here to see it, thank god."  
"I'm sorry." I said, bowing my head.  
"Oh, I'm not." Howarth was just coherent. "I think I've had... quite enough."  
My dear old friend was trying to keep from sleep, as I sat there looking on in silence. 

 

"I do however," Howarth perked up, "have one favour to ask."  
"Anything you like, my dear friend."  
"Wait till you here it." Howard said turning to look at me. "Impetuous fellow." He looked away back down at his bed sheets. "I have a... sentimental notion, that I'd like to... discharge myself from hospital and die at Bamfylde. Only place I feel comfortable. You must tell me if you find that... too macabre for you."  
I wasn't at all surprised by his request. After all who would want to die in hospital? Many people have of course, but like myself Howarth would prefer to live out his last days in comfort. I couldn't blame him for that. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

On Founder's Day Howarth passed on peacefully whilst watching the cricket, not that he cared for the game much. From what I heard later on from the nurse, who had been Howarth's constant companion ever since discharging himself from the hospital, he had passed on in relative peace as he fell asleep in his deckchair mid game.  
I retired to my office after returning from watching a bit of the match and mingling with the patrons, alumni and parents, and found a surprise waiting for me. 

 

Standing behind my desk, looking out of the window was a young man in RAF uniform. At hearing me shut the door my visitor turned round. Chad Boyer stood before me, a smile plastered across his handsome boyish face. I was shocked. I could do nothing but stare at him. Raking my eyes up and his body, much like they had done all those years ago when I first entered Bamfylde.  
He had grown into a fine young man and was as tall as me now. 

 

"Hello, sir." He said, before he ran with a limp around my desk and I soon found myself wrapping my arms around him, crushing him to my body in a firm hug.  
"Boyer, is it really you?"  
"Yes, sir. Headmaster." He replied. "I've come home, sir. If you'll have me that is."  
I stepped back keeping my arms around him as I studied him. There were tears in his eyes. There most probably were in mine too.  
"I would love to welcome you home, Chad." I said. "But know this. I won't be letting you go this time. I've loved you too long to let you go again." 

 

Boyer broke down at hearing that from me. He told me as I held him in my arms, that he had missed me greatly. Letters were all very well and good, but they weren't the same... or enough. Now that he had come back, he didn't want to leave my side. That he had never found anyone else after he left Bamfylde, as he had hoped that one day he would get the chance to return to the one person he truly loved. Me. Well now he had gotten his wish and here he was, in my arms.

 

He'd been invalided out of the army and the war, much like myself had been. Even had the same bad leg too. He wants to teach as well as be with me. I was just so happy that he was here. We spent the evening chatting about the old days. As well as going into greater detail about what had happened at Bamfylde in the years after Chad had left. Including the South African megalomaniac with a rather keen interest in lavatories - as dear old Howarth had coined Alcock - and his rather unhealthy views on friendships between the Senior and Junior boys as well as friendships in general. 

 

After there was nothing more to talk about we made our way to my rooms, where I stripped Chad Boyer of his uniform and underpants, got him on to the bed and made wild and passionate love to him. Boyer was still amazingly tight, and for most of the night I had him wailing, whimpering, moaning and mewling. Begging and pleading for more. Just like the good old days.


	12. Bamfylde To The End

Boyer and I have been together now for two years and we are still going strong. He has chosen one of the upper years to be his, not that I minded of course. I have him after all, and it was still part of our Traditions at Bamfylde. One of the few that Alcock never managed to get rid of. We live together in my rooms. I'm forty-two. He's twenty-eight. The same age I was when I first entered Bamfylde to teach. I don't spank him much now, only when he asks for it. But he still loves being ploughed into hard and fast on a regular basis. Moaning and wailing, whimpering and groaning. Begging and pleading for more. 

 

Life at Bamfylde for the two us was as though Boyer had never left. And he never will. I lost him once before. I won't let him go again. The Love we held for each other was too strong to part us again. Old Algy Herries died aged ninety-eight. He was buried on the grounds by the folly, his favourite haunt from his own schooldays here. Ellie, his wife was buried with him. Ian Howarth, my oldest and dearest friend and surrogate uncle you could say was also buried at Bamfylde, under the old elm by the cricket pitch. 

 

 **\- DPJ/B -**

 

Myself and Boyer carried on with life, teaching new generations of boys who came and went. We lived through the second war, losing many of our old boys to Hitler. We both continued teaching long after the war ended, until I decided it was time to retire. Boyer succeeded me and went on for a few more years, until he too retired. Not because he didn't want to continue, but because he wanted to spend more time with me in my declining years. Young Molyneux took over the Headship of Bamfylde and did a splendid job of it. Of course just like old Algy Herries had done, both myself and Boyer were there keeping an eye on things, making sure Bamfylde continued to thrive from the sidelines. Always there if needed, right to the end. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This was the first ever story I've written as a memoir based and written from one person's POV. I thought it would be difficult to write like this, confusing when you add in more characters and dialogues. I was mistaken and found it rather enjoyable actually. ~ SSD_


End file.
